Author: Lady Starblade -- [email protected]
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: T/R
Category: Drama/Angst/Romance
Spoilers: Nope
Warnings: Negativio
Archive: Entslash; Anyone else, if ya want it, take it. Just let me know where.
Feedback: <in best Roger Rabbit voice> Pppppleeeease!
Disclaimer: Hahaha.....I don't own 'em, Paramount does. And someone's making a lot of money off of Enterprise, but not me, and not with this fic.
Author's Note: I actually started this long before the issuance of the Father's Day Challenge, but guess what? It fits perfectly. Not an original idea, but hey, it's got the LSB Spin.... Also, since I started it so long ago, it doesn't incorporate some canon events. Just forget that "Expanse" happened, 'k?
The title comes from a Chinese proverb couplet---shu gao quian zhang, luo ye gui gen---which translates to "even if a tree reaches the height of ten thousand feet, falling leaves return to their roots."
Summary: Malcolm brings Trip home.
**
The shuttle broke through the clouds, and Malcolm Reed looked down at the swirling ocean as his stomach began to knot and roll. For the first time that he could remember, it had nothing to do with the ocean and his aquaphobia. The shuttle ride had not been turbulent at all, as the lightly snoring man next to him could attest to. No, the nauseated feeling in his gut involved what was waiting for him at the end of the flight.
Malcolm looked over to the next seat to look at his new husband. Trip Tucker's chin had dropped down to his chest, and his head lolled slightly as the shuttle banked. He had been sleeping soundly for the past two hours. It had been a tiring time for the two men, and Malcolm couldn't begrudge Trip sleep where he could get it.
Enterprise had returned from her first five-year mission two months ago, to much pomp and celebration. Four months in drydock, and then she was heading back out for another five-year stint. After a mere two days of freedom, the crew had been working on refits and upgrades for the past four weeks without a break. Now, they all were on three-week furloughs. And the first thing he and Trip had done was get married.
After a week-long honeymoon touring the British Isles, the second week was spent visiting Trip's family, during which Malcolm had been heartily adopted as a Tucker. He had gotten a great deal of enjoyment watching Trip come alive in a new way when surrounded by his multitude of relatives. It was no mystery where Trip had inherited his openness and vibrancy. Now, Trip was accompanying Malcolm on his own homeward journey.
Trip's eyes fluttered open, and he yawned as he pulled himself up into a proper sitting position. Rubbing his face with a hand, he leaned across Malcolm to look out of the window. "A'most there?" Malcolm smiled at the sleepy thickness of Trip's accent.
"We're on final approach." Malcolm couldn't help the slight shiver that ran through him. Trip noticed, and slanted a worried look at him.
"You okay?"
Malcolm shook his head. "Not really. But it'll have to do." He forced a cheerful note into his voice as he shifted forward to plant a quick kiss on Trip's mouth. "I'm fine, love."
Malcolm knew there was no fooling Trip here. Trip knew Malcolm was lying through his teeth, but chose not to press the subject. Instead, he settled back down into his seat and stretched his legs out to their full length, feet disappearing underneath the seat in front of him. "I'll be glad to get my feet back on the ground...didn't realize til we got down here how much I missed it." Malcolm nodded absently. There was something special about having one's home soil beneath one's feet. His eyes strayed back to the window as his thoughts turned back toward what was coming.
The two men were flying toward Kota Bharu, Malaysia, toward the home of Stuart and Mary Reed, Malcolm's parents. He hadn't seen them for almost six years. His only contact with them during that time were brief communiqu�s from Enterprise. The message from his father requesting that he come for a visit had shocked Malcolm, and only Trip's constant optimism about it had kept his concern on an even keel. And since they had boarded this shuttle flight, his inner uneasiness had been steadily worsening. His parents had no idea that he and the "friend" he was bringing were married.
His train of thought was broken when Trip picked up his left hand. Glancing over, Malcolm watched as Trip kissed the ring on the fourth finger. In acknowledgment of the ship and of the mission that had brought them together, Malcolm's wedding band was made out of a piece of the outer shell of Enterprise's warp core, and Trip's was fashioned out of a part of a phase pistol casing. Both rings were similar shades of dull silver and each had their combined names etched on the inside.
Malcolm smiled at the gesture, and Trip folded both his hands around Malcolm's. "It'll be okay. Don't worry. Besides," he added in a sly voice, "I'm lookin' forward to finally meeting this sister of yours."
"Hmm, I am glad she is the one meeting us at the shuttleport. For the last year, she has been constantly informing me how much she wants to meet you. I hope the meeting can live up to expectations."
Madeline had flown in two days earlier, making the reunion complete. She knew about he and Trip, Malcolm was comforted by the fact that he would have the two people he loved most by his side; his husband and his sister. Perhaps the visit wouldn't be so disastrous after all.
The shuttle completed its descent and slid smoothly into its docking port. The clamps locked on with a gentle thud, and the passengers rose as one. Trip swung up easily, reaching over his head to fish their bags from the overhead compartment. Slinging his own strap across his shoulder, he handed Malcolm's down and snapped the door shut. Malcolm found himself enjoying the way Trip's muscles worked under the open-necked shirt he wore. Malcolm had talked him out of the wildly-colored Hawaiian-type shirts and into the current deep blue one. A blue, he reflected, that played up Trip's eyes beautifully.
They slipped up the aisle and through the hatch, stepping out onto the disembark platform. Malcolm instantly picked Madeline out by her crown of blond hair. There was always one blond Reed in every generation, standing out against the brown coloring more common to the family. He felt a grin split his face as he lifted his arm. "Madeline! Maddy!" The woman turned her head and smiled back, then began quickly weaving her way across the terminal toward them.
When she reached them, Malcolm let his bag slid from his shoulder to grab his sister in a hug. She let out a surprised laugh and hugged him back. "Hello, Malcolm! It's so wonderful to see you!" Her voice, tinged with a familiar accent, was bright and slightly breathless.
"I've missed you, Maddy." He let go and looked closely at her. "You look wonderful. How have things been?"
Madeline's smile widened. "Very well, actually." Her cheeks began to pink as she tilted her head forward. "I am going to be married in the fall."
"What?" Malcolm's eyes went wide. "To that anthropologist?" Madeline nodded. "You never told me...." He injected a gentle note of reproach into his words.
"I wanted to surprise you. Serves you right, after all. You didn't tell me, either." Her eyes trailed over to Trip, who had been standing quietly to the side, watching the interaction between brother and sister. "And you must be Trip."
"Charles Tucker the Third, at your service." Trip turned his brightest grin on and stuck out a hand.
Madeline shook it, her gaze slowly traveling up and down. "You're right, Malcolm. He is gorgeous."
Malcolm hid his laugh at Trip's shellshocked expression by bending to pick up his bag. Back under control, he straightened and said calmly, "Yes, he is."
"I am going to kill you for not inviting me to the wedding." Madeline's voice was only half-joking as they started to walk toward the shuttleport exit, and Malcolm ducked his head in penance.
"We didn't really plan it out beforehand....."
Trip broke in cheerfully. "What he means is that I had to drag him into it before he started worryin' and bendin' himself out of shape over it. We just waited long enough to get the rings, then went for it."
Malcolm smiled over at him and caught Trip's free hand. "And I don't regret a second of it. We had planned on a quiet, private affair...." He was interrupted again by Trip's snorting laugh.
"Didn't quite turn out that way, though."
"Oh?" Madeline asked as the trio stepped out into the warm afternoon. "I take it word got out?"
"In a big way," Trip said, rolling his eyes. "It was mostly Malcolm's fault."
"Hardly," Malcolm shot back. "I think we can both take our share of the blame."
"What happened?" Madeline's eyes darted back and forth between the two men.
After exchanged glances and half-shrugs, Trip replied, "Well, we needed witnesses, so we each decided to have a best man. I called Jon Archer, and Malcolm called Travis Mayweather."
"Your Captain and helmsman."
Trip shot Madeline a brief surprised look before continuing. "Yeah. Problem is, the news didn't stop there."
Malcolm shook his head as a smile worked its way across his face at the memory. "We haven't been able to trace the direct flow of information, but somehow almost half the Enterprise crew turned up at the ceremony."
"Complete with Porthos as ringbearer!" Trip laughed.
"And a fine ringbearer he was. At least until he ate the ribbon around his neck."
"Don't forget Phlox running around and takin' notes."
"Oh no, of course not."
"I at least hope there are pictures," Madeline said, pointing a finger at them as she slowed next to a groundcar. She pulled open the back and gestured for them to put their bags in.
As they did so, Trip called over his shoulder, "Oh yeah. At the wedding, Hoshi decided to be our official photographer. We got enough pictures to plaster Enterprise's hull."
"I don't think it was quite that bad, Trip." Malcolm reacted to the embellishment.
Madeline shut the car's hatch, ending the discussion. "It's good to see the both of you. Now in the car with you."
**
Trip paid little attention to the scenery outside the groundcar, as beautiful as it was. He was more concerned with the martial set Malcolm's shoulders had acquired as they neared his parents' home. The entire drive, despite his and Madeline's best efforts, Malcolm's mood had....not darkened, but become more remote and subdued. The light, playful aura of earlier had vanished. Trip's eyes met the reflection of Madeline's, and he saw that she was aware of it too.
Leaning forward between the two front seats, Trip put a smile on his face. "So, why did they set up camp in down here instead of back in England?" The question was obstinately directed to both siblings, but Madeline answered after it became obvious that Malcolm wasn't going to.
"My father was stationed in Malaysia for several years, and when he finally went into semi-retirement, he and my mother came back here. They both love the weather. It's more consistent."
The conversation ran dry quickly, and Trip looked over at Malcolm. His profile looked more chiseled and hawkish than usual, his gaze unfocused and disconnected. He looked like he hadn't heard anything either of them had said since they had gotten into the car. Trip reached out and lightly touched Malcolm's shoulder. "Hey, you still with us?" He pulled his hand back when the man flinched, then fixed him with startled eyes. "Whoa Malcolm, it's okay. See?" Trip held up both hands, palms up, fingers splayed. "I'm unarmed and completely harmless."
Madeline burst into laughter, and Malcolm finally smiled. A tight, nervous smile, but a smile nevertheless. "I'm fine," he said, looking back out the windshield.
"Uh oh, there's that 'I'm fine.' Never a good sign." He winked over at Madeline.
Trip put his hand back on the shoulder, and this time Malcolm put one of his hands over it. "Love, I appreciate the effort, but...." His voice trailed off as the car turned up a narrow wooded avenue. He sat bolt upright, and their hands fell away. "We're here."
No one but Trip, who was tuned to his husband's every nuance, would have heard the reluctance and fear in the flat tone. For an instant, Trip flirted with telling Madeline to turn the car around and get them both out of here before it was too late. Then the house came into view, and the chance passed.
The house wasn't huge or ornate, but there was an innate elegance to the two-story main house and the two small wings. The grounds were immaculately kept, the late spring blooms in precise rows, every color and species carefully separated. The entire property was bordered by shade trees, clearly marking boundaries. It its own way, it looked like a military parade ground.
One of the two figures that emerged from the front door looked like he belonged on a parade ground. That would have to be Stuart Reed. The shorter, slightly stocky woman beside him would be Mary. As they drove closer, Trip could sense Malcolm coiling around himself, as if he were preparing himself for battle. Glancing down, he saw the white-knuckled grip Malcolm had on the seat's armrest.
"Malcolm...."
The dark head shook decisively. "It's time."
**
The four steps from the car to his parents were the longest steps Malcolm had ever taken. He watched his mother come forward, holding her hands out. Malcolm took them and leaned in to give her a light kiss on the offered cheek. "Hello, Mother." The older woman murmured a greeting, but Malcolm's attention was already focused on his father, looming in front of him like a foreboding god.
"Malcolm." The statement of fact as a welcome was typical for Stuart, but Malcolm couldn't shake the ominous feeling brought on by those two syllables.
Malcolm met Trip's eyes, drawing on the strength there. "Trip, this is my father, Stuart Reed." Reluctantly turning, Malcolm drew a deep breath before continuing. "Father, this is Charles Tucker. My husband."
The only sound was a soft gasp from Mary. Stuart's eyes narrowed, and Malcolm felt the familiar terrible disapproval crash down on him. "Is that so? We hadn't heard." His voice, cool from the start, was now positively icy.
"The ceremony was only two weeks ago." Malcolm could not say any more than that. However, for better or worse, Trip spoke up.
"But we have been involved for....how long has it been, Malcolm? Four years now? I keep losin' track." Malcolm shot a sharp look at Trip, but Trip was fixing Stuart with a patently false smile and sticking a hand out. Stuart stared at it for a moment, as if he couldn't decide exactly what it was, much less what to do about it. Finally, he grasped Trip's hand for a few seconds, then abruptly let go. Squaring his shoulders, he stared back down at Malcolm.
"Since Madeline is here also, we were prepared to ask the two of you to share a room. We had a cot set up in one of the guest rooms. But it appears you won't be needing it." The man's eyebrows lifted, and Malcolm wanted to shy away from that glare. Only long practice kept his feet still.
Trip answered, challenge edging into his voice. "No, sir. We won't. But thank you for your consideration." The formal phrase coming from Trip, in any other context, would have been amusing. But Malcolm could see Trip's hackles rising, see the jaw harden and the nostrils flare.
"Indeed." With that single word from Stuart, the temperature of the air around them seemed to plummet, and Malcolm repressed a shiver. "Very well. Dinner is prepared. We were awaiting your arrival. Shall we?"
Malcolm pulled himself through the doorway through a great exercise of willpower. It might have only been his imagination, but when the door closed behind them, it echoed like the door of a jail cell.
He was home.
**
"That could have gone better."
"Except for the two of you tryin' to stare each other down, I think it went okay. I was half-expecting ya to start circling around the table." Trip said, coming out of the small bathroom adjacent to their room and spotting Malcolm perched on the edge of the bed.
"My father is an expert at cold war techniques. He can say more with a look than with a hundred words. He isn't often demonstrative, but he gets his point across."
Trip tilted his head in acquiesce and added, "I think you got your point across too."
Malcolm groaned. "I'm not so sure about that."
During the dinner, the five of them had been arrayed around the table, Stuart at the head, Mary to his right, Madeline on the other side of Mary. Malcolm's place had been set at the other end of the table, leaving Trip alone on his side to Stuart's left. But Malcolm had pointedly moved to sit to Trip's left, across from his sister. Stuart had said nothing, merely taking his own place and beginning the dinner.
The conversation had been carried primarily by Madeline and Trip, the latter launching into a series of stories about Enterprise's adventures. Madeline laughed, Mary smiled politely, and Stuart occasionally grunted. Malcolm couldn't stop making furtive glances at his father, each time meeting either indifference or a cool regard that twisted inside Malcolm's. The sickening sensation was abated only by Trip's occasional touch to his thigh or knee under the cover of the table. Even now, ensconced with Trip in their room, Malcolm still felt the crawling tension working its way through his body.
"It feels like he can still see me. I can't remember a time when it didn't feel as if he were watching me, measuring my every word, my every action." Malcolm rubbed his eyes tiredly as he laid back on the bed. Pulling his hands away, he looked up at Trip, who was leaning against one of the bedposts. "Maybe we should have kept the cot in here after all."
Trip's expression darkened briefly before he stretched out on the bed as well, propping his head up on one arm. "We don't have to do anything, Mal. I'm not going to make ya do something you don't want to. But I'll be damned if he's gonna chase me away from you. Or you away from me." To punctuate his assertion, Trip brought his mouth down on Malcolm's. He let his hands trail down the slender body until they reached the waist, then he tightened his grip and pulled Malcolm tightly against him. He felt Malcolm's soft whimper, and he leaned his head away to nuzzle Malcolm's cheek. "I love you."
"I know," came the quiet reply. "Thank you."
**
The piano sat in the full light that streamed through the bay window. Sitting on the attendant bench, body twisted away from the door, Malcolm let his fingers run idly across the keys, picking out a disjointed melody. He let out a tired sigh as he stilled his hands. The last three days had been nothing short of hellish. Only at night, curled up against a sleeping Trip, was he able to find even a small measure of peace. During the day, he could feel himself growing more and more distant, pulling away from Trip and more into himself.
Stuart had been even more taciturn than usual, and rarely addressed either man directly. Madeline had applied herself to filling the uncomfortable gap with a vengeance, and both Trip's concern and frustration had reached palpable levels. Mary, caught in the middle, was a non-entity in the brewing power struggle. Malcolm could feel it, feel the energy building in the house. His tactical sense told him that something was about to happen. He didn't know what, but he knew it was coming.
Three, four, five notes. A ghost of memory came back to him, one of a faint music. He had spent four years in piano lessons, one of his father's attempts to impress "proper" culture on him. 'Consider it an exercise in self-discipline,' Stuart had said. He had applied himself to them with his usual single-mindedness, thinking that maybe, this time, he would earn that elusive approval. But the years had passed, and he had been directed to other "acceptable" pursuits, leaving the piano behind. Six, seven, eight, nine notes. He was surprising himself with how much he was remembering.
"Ya never told me you could play piano." Malcolm closed his eyes briefly as his husband's voice washed over him.
"Not very well. Just one of the many things I learned here that I wanted to forget." He hit a couple more keys harder than necessary, sounding a pair of discordant notes. They died off into silence, and Malcolm could hear Trip's footsteps crossing the room. He refused to look up, choosing instead to stare at the black and white keys.
"Mal, why won't you talk to me?" The soft words had no note of accusation, just quiet questioning.
Trip was the only person in the universe who could get away with calling him that. The way he said it, it was no longer a diminutive nickname, but an endearment. Only Trip could say it without sparking memories of taunts and jeers. The sound reminded him of love, light, and laughter, of joyous shouts and of sated whispers.
Still looking down, Malcolm answered, "Trip, it's not that simple."
"Why not?"
"It just isn't."
The silence lay heavy and unbroken. Another whisper of movement, and Trip was sitting behind him on the bench, close enough that he could feel the radiating body heat. Then arms tentatively encircled his waist. "I just feel like I'm losing you, sweetheart. Where are you?"
All Malcolm wanted to do was to slump back, to take that love and support that was being so freely offered. But the specter of his father hovered, not letting him go. He could still feel those eyes on him. He remained rigid, and after a few moments, Trip pulled his arms away with a sigh. The bench creaked softly as the other man stood back up. "So, you're pushing me away now? Does he still have that much control over you?" The hurt in those words cut deeply, and Malcolm could only sit, head bowed, hating himself for his silence, for his weakness.
The footsteps receded back across the floor. "He scares you more than you love me." Trip's voice sounded on the edge of breaking. Malcolm finally looked up and over in time to see the door swing shut. His vision began to blur as his throat tightened. He balled both hands into fists, one colliding with the top of the piano, the other pressing to his mouth. He felt the cool metal of his wedding band burn against his lips, and something inside Malcolm broke.
**
Trip walked down the hall, running both hands roughly through his hair. He knew that Stuart Reed was quite capable of cowing Malcolm, but he never imagined that it would be this bad. His husband had reverted to the incomphrensible, infuriating, closed-off enigma Trip had first met five years ago. The warm, open, and loving man he had married had disappeared. It looked like that all of the shields Trip had worked to bring down were resurrected by Stuart's mere presence.
He glimpsed Madeline at the far end of the hall, halted in mid-stride, looking down the corridor at him. Even from this distance, he could see the confused expression on her face. Trip couldn't help but wish Malcolm was more like Madeline, who resisted Stuart's tactics. Then again, she did not have the burden of being the only son of an overbearing father. He quickened his step when the sound of a slamming door crashed through the entire house.
Turning quickly, his feet slipping slightly on the polished floor, Trip caught sight of Malcolm whipping down the hall in the other direction in a gait only a breath away from a run. Trip glanced over his shoulder to see Madeline hurrying towards him. Her eyes were wide with surprise and questions. Trip could only shake his head in response. The both of them chased the retreating figure until they reached the study. In an instant flash, Trip realized what was about to happen. The sharp intake of breath at his shoulder told him that Madeline saw it too.
Malcolm shoved the door open so hard that the crack of the knob hitting the wall made Trip wince. Stuart and Mary, both sitting in matching wingbacked chairs, looked up at the sudden intrusion. Malcolm stopped in front of his father, feet planted firmly apart, shoulders hunched forward. Stuart slowly rose to his full height. He had almost four inches on Malcolm, but it didn't seem to deter the younger man. Instead, he shifted his shoulders back and lifted his head to keep their eyes locked. "No more. It ends now."
"What is the meaning of this, Malcolm?" The words were low and dangerous, making Trip want to pull Malcolm away before anything happened. Stuart was serious. Apparently, so was Malcolm.
"Haven't you taken enough of me already? Haven't you wrung enough of me out? Having me under your thumb wasn't enough, was it? No, now you think that you can separate me from the man I love." Malcolm shook his head sharply. "You won't. You can't." Malcolm's voice hardened to steel as his fists clenched at his sides. "I'm not yours to control anymore. I don't belong to you!"
After a second of shocked silence, Stuart's face contorted as he bellowed, "You never belonged to me! If you ever did, you would have done what was right and proper, not abandoned your heritage and gone off to gallivant across the galaxy! And then you have the gall to bring this....person," he jerked his chin in Trip's direction without breaking eye contact, "into my home and announce that you've married him? I cannot imagine a more complete way to spit on the Reed name!"
All of Trip's building anger vanished when his eyes flicked to Malcolm. He stood frozen, every inch of his body coiled. And the look in those eyes sent a chill coursing through Trip. Malcolm's eyes had gone completely blank, his face completely expressionless. Trip had seen this look before. Malcolm Reed was clinging to a bare thread of control. Carefully stepping forward, Trip came as close to the two men as he dared. "Mal...." he breathed. The dark head tilted ever so slightly, but Malcolm didn't back down.
"How dare you." Each word was precisely clipped and calculated, so cold that Trip could almost hear the ice crackling. "I have stood for your insults, your distain, your disappointment for my entire life. I always felt that in some way, I deserved it. But you will not turn your contempt onto him. All he has done is love me, and you will not curse him for it."
Stuart's face had gone an alarming shade of scarlet. It appeared that, for once, his son had caught him off guard. "And how dare you tell me what I can and cannot do in my own home," he snarled.
"I will dare whatever I like. Sir." The last syllable snapped through the air, leaving a finality in its wake. Without waiting for a response, he turned smartly on a heel and left the room. Trip quickly glanced around, then hurried after Malcolm. He caught up to him at the door leading outside, only to have it snap shut in his face.
He stared at the dark wood before sitting down heavily on the bench in the front entranceway. It was time to back away. Trying to get him to talk hadn't worked. Hell, it looked like his last attempt might have made it worse. Rubbing a thumb over his lips, Trip decided to let Malcolm have some space. He had chosen to fight this war alone. Maybe he could work it out on his own. He slumped back against the wall, letting out a long breath. On second thought, he had just seen how Malcolm had worked things out on his own.
He lost track of how long he was lost in thought, but approaching footfalls brought Trip upright, and he looked up to see Madeline sitting on the other end of the bench. "Hello, Trip. Did he..." She shot a pointed look toward the door.
"Yeah. Think he went out to walk off some steam. I'm just glad he didn't take it out on something along the way." He rubbed a hand over his hair again and smiled a rueful smile. "He get scary when he gets mad."
"'Beware the fury of a patient man.' Malcolm can be fierce when provoked." She leaned forward and propped her elbows on her knees. "I'm sorry that this visit hasn't gone so well for either of you."
"That's an understatement. Ever since we got here, I've goin' back and forth between trying to shake some sense into Malcolm or punchin' his father out. But I don't think either would help much."
Madeline pursed her lips. "No, I don't think so. Instant gratification notwithstanding."
"Huh." Trip's smile faded off, and he fixed Madeline with an intense stare. "Has this really been going on as long as I think?"
"This has been going on Malcolm's entire life. It is time someone ended it. But I never expected him stand up to Father like that. It's something I always told him to do, but he never did. But he finally broke."
"I think that was me....I said a few things about him and his father. It hurt him, but I didn't think he'd react like that."
Madeline's eyebrow arched, reminding Trip briefly of T'Pol. "Oh?" Surprisingly, she began to nod. "Whatever caused it, it will be to the good. He needed to do this."
Trip began to slowly twist his ring around and around, watching the silver circle as he turned it. "But what is it going to do to Malcolm? How is he going to come out of this?"
He felt her hand touch the side of his face, and he looked up to meet Madeline's smile. "I'm not worried. He has you. You are so good for him. He has never opened up to anyone, even me. But he let you in, and he's so much better now."
Trip could feel a blush coming on at the warm words. Trying to deflect the compliment, he said, "His eyes always light up when he talks about you. He really does love you a lot."
"And I've always tried to be worthy of that love. He doesn't give it easily."
"You don't have to tell me that. Took me almost a year and comin' within an inch of freezing to death to get him to call me Trip."
Madeline laughed. "I can imagine. But now, he's more open and alive than I've ever seen him. I think part of it was getting away from here. But I think the greatest part of it is you. Even if I hated everything else about you, I would love you for what you've done for him." Madeline reached out and took both of Trip's hands in her own. "No matter what the rest of the family thinks, I am happy to have you as a brother."
**
Malcolm paced back and forth restlessly, feet whispering through the grass as he went. He had circled the entire property three times before a burgeoning side stitch forced him to slow down. Now he prowled along a length of lawn underneath the border of trees. A hundred conflicting emotions rolled through him, pulling his battered psyche one direction after another. In the blink of an eye, he had managed to turn his family inside out. Not even in his bitterest thoughts had he ever spoken to his father that way. His hands came together, and the fingers of his right hand twisted his wedding ring around its finger. And to top it all off, he had slammed the door in Trip's face. That was a crowning achievement to this day. Not only had he infuriated his father, scandalized his mother, and frightened his sister, but he was trying his best to alienate his husband. A perfect day, indeed.
"That was quite a scene you made in there." Malcolm jumped, startled by his mother's voice. He turned to see Mary standing several feet away, right hand resting lightly on the nearby tree. He didn't know which was more unnerving; the fact that she had gotten so close without him noticing, or the fact that she had come after him at all. "Do you know you've been out here for almost four hours?"
Finally regaining his voice, Malcolm asked, "Mother? What are you doing out here?"
Mary smiled at her son as she stepped forward. "Your sister and I decided to divide and conquer. She's looking after Trip." She cocked her head. "A passionate man, your husband."
Malcolm's mouth twitched, reflecting on how true that statement was. "Yes, yes he is." He watched his mother briefly bite her lip, her brow furrowing as she searched for words.
"Stuart and I had an unspoken agreement. Madeline was mine, you were his. The father instructing the son. That's the way it should be." She hesitated as she looked down at her clasped hands, shame creeping into her voice.
"I want to apologize to you, Malcolm." Malcolm started again, confusion and surprise colliding head-on. "I should have done something a long time ago. But I didn't know how. To me, it felt like I had to make a choice between my husband and my son, and I couldn't do it. So instead, I stayed silent, hoping everything would take care of itself. And now, you're being forced into the same choice. Your father or your husband. It's not right."
He opened his mouth, but Mary raised a hand to stop him. "I won't be a party to it any longer. You are a grown man, fully capable of living your own life. And you have been living it very well. Forging your own path, joining Starfleet, being a part of Enterprise, finding that lovely man...." She glanced at Malcolm out of the corner of her eye. "I only have one problem with the entire situation."
Malcolm tried to shake himself out of his daze. Mary's words echoed in his head, and he found himself radically rethinking the way he had always perceived his family. No words worked their way up his dry throat as he stood and stared.
"I am going to kill you for not inviting me to the wedding." Malcolm automatically ducked his head at the familiar phrase before looking back up in surprise. Mary smiled at him, gentle laughter in her eyes. "I am so very proud of you, Malcolm. I love you, always."
And for the first time in as long as Malcolm could remember, mother and son embraced.
**
Trip leaned against the window jamb and looked out across the sprawling east lawn. He focused in on the two tiny figures on the far side, almost hidden under the hang of branches. He saw them hug and felt tears begin to prick at his eyes. He blinked furiously as he crossed his arms across his chest.
Madeline came up beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. He turned and smiled at her, gesturing with his head toward the window. Madeline looked out and smiled herself at what she saw. They watched Malcolm and Mary start walking back across the lawn toward the house. He began to say something when a shadow suddenly loomed across the window. The both of them turned as one to see Stuart Reed framed in the hallway arch. Trip felt the anger spark inside, but kept a neutral expression on his face.
"May I speak with you in private, Commander Tucker?" Trip's eyebrows climbed at the formal use of his rank. He eyed Stuart suspiciously, wondering at the man's ulterior motives. In an odd dismissive thought, he realized that Malcolm and his father had the same color eyes. But if Trip had any say in the matter, Malcolm's eyes would never turn that hard and distant.
"Commander?" Trip snapped himself back into focus and nodded slowly. He took a step forward before being stopped by Madeline's hand, which was still on his shoulder. Meeting her gaze, he saw the curiosity, the worry, and the caution. Those expressive eyes....those were his Malcolm's eyes. He gave her a half-smile and she withdrew her hand. He followed Stuart back into the study, glancing briefly at the mark on the wall where the knob had impacted earlier. The door clicked shut, and Stuart turned to regard Trip.
"Malcolm's husband," he said, partly to himself. "I don't know how to react to you. Are you my enemy? Are you an intruder? Are you a faithful son or a rogue who will one day hurt my son?"
"I won't ever hurt him," Trip pronounced, spitting out the words as if he were making a challenge.
There was no heat in the reply. "Don't make that promise. No human being can keep that one." Stuart walked slowly across the room, coming to a halt next to the grand ornamental fireplace that occupied most of one wall. "We all hurt the ones we love, usually out of love. I know I've hurt my son very badly. I know that there's a thousand things I could have done differently, and I am ashamed of my failure. I do want to make amends, but I'm a tired old man, set in his ways."
One hand reached up to idly run across the mantelpiece as he continued. "I think of how long I struggled to shape my son, how to make him into what I wanted him to be. And when I saw him becoming something else, I tried even harder to push him the way I thought he should go. But I never could budge him an inch. He's almost as stubborn as his father." A rueful grin stole across Stuart's features, which quickly disappeared as he turned to lock eyes with Trip.
"In the end, I drove him away. And now I see who he is now, who he is with you....and I don't know my own son. I've lost him."
Trip opened his mouth to respond, but Stuart cut him off with, "But he is a better man than I could ever have hoped for." Trip's teeth snapped shut with an audible clack.
A sudden rabble of movement sounded on the other side of the door. Trip spun and Stuart's eyes snapped over as the doors flew open. Malcolm charged through them for the second time in a day, this time with both Mary and Madeline on his heels. Madeline shot Trip an apologetic look. Without even glancing at his father, Malcolm strode across the room to Trip. In one motion, he slid his arms around Trip's waist and tucked himself against the other man. Trip tilted his head back slightly and immediately folded Malcolm into his embrace. As Trip rested his chin on the top of Malcolm's head, he felt lips move against his neck.
"Forgive me, love?"
"Nothin' to forgive, darlin'," Trip replied quietly. Malcolm tightened the hug briefly in response before stepping back. He entwined one of Trip's hands with his own and turned to face his father, his look daring Stuart to say something. The older man stood impassively, hands clasped behind him as he watched. Finally, he broke the standoff.
"Malcolm, I have something to say to you, and I would appreciate if you would hear me out. I have been thinking hard on what I need to say." He rose up on the balls of his feet, the first nervous gesture Trip had seen him make. "I am not one for speeches, and I've talked far too much today, so I will remain brief. Firstly, I apologize to you both. I have treated you rudely and inappropriately." Malcolm and Trip exchanged a glance, both men's eyes wide with surprise.
"Secondly, welcome, Charles Tucker, to my home and to my family. From what I know of you and from what I have seen here, you are a fine man. You have earned Malcolm's respect and trust, and he gives neither easily. The fact that you have both tells me all I really need to know about you. But I hope that we can develop an amicable relationship based on further acquaintance." Trip could only stand silently, trying to project a cool calm that he was definitely not feeling.
"Finally. Malcolm. I should have said this sooner." Malcolm gripped Trip's hand so tightly Trip imagined he could hear the bones grinding. "I may not agree with some of your choices, but you have made them and held fast to them. That is an admirable trait in any man, and I am proud to see it in my son." The shock on Malcolm's face was unsettling, and Trip moved closer to him until their shoulders were touching.
Stuart took a deep breath and said, "I may have been a failure as a father, but perhaps I could be your friend. If you would be willing to give me the chance."
When Malcolm found his voice again, it was strained, but still strong. "I don't know if I can."
"I understand." The older man's shoulders slumped and his chin dropped slightly. In that moment, Stuart Reed looked old.
Malcolm looked up at Trip, gray eyes opaque. One side of Trip's mouth curved upward, and he tried, as hard as he could, to silently communicate that whatever Malcolm did, he would back him up.
Malcolm got the message. He returned his eyes to his father. "Earn your chance."
**
Malcolm, flanked by Trip and Madeline, walked through the main terminal at the shuttle port. Mary and Stuart followed several paces behind. Glancing at the wall chronometer, Malcolm saw they had only five minutes before their shuttle left.
The last three days of the visit had been almost surreal. Pleasant, even. It was an odd sensation for Malcolm. For the first time, his father was treating him as an equal. Stuart had been true to his word, becoming more friendly and gregarious than Malcolm had ever seen him. Mary had confessed the other evening that she hadn't seen him acting like this in years. The role reversal still amazed him.....instead of him adjusting to his father, Stuart was adjusting himself to Malcolm.
They came to a stop, and Madeline wrapped her arms around her brother. "Remember, you owe me pictures."
"If you show me yours...." Malcolm said quietly, only to receive a swat to the arm. He smiled at her. "Goodbye, Maddy."
"Goodbye, Malcolm. Take care of yourself." She kissed his cheek and let go.
"Please try to write more often, Malcolm," Mary admonished. "I would like to know what you're up to out there. And I don't mean a message every now and then saying 'I'm fine.' If I have to, I'll go behind your back to Trip."
"Mother," Malcolm said in a long-suffering tone.
"I'll do it," she said with a smile. "Goodbye." She kissed the other cheek.
Malcolm smiled back, then turned to see Stuart looking at Trip. "I would say take care of my son, but he's proven that he can do that himself." Malcolm felt his ears grow warm. He still couldn't get used to hearing even faint praise from his father.
"I'll try to, anyway."
"Good luck." Stuart extended a hand to Trip, absent the awkward stiffness of their greeting.
Trip took the hand and nodded. "I'll need it."
As Trip stepped away to say his goodbyes to Mary and Madeline, Malcolm was left facing his father. Facing, but not confronting. "I meant what I said, Malcolm. It's just....difficult."
"I know. It's hard for me as well." There would be no easy solutions, no instant connections. Malcolm knew that any reconciliation would be long and painful. So many years lay between them, but somehow, just knowing that the door was open helped. In either case, he would have five more years to think about it.
Stuart bobbed his head. "Far be it for me to give advice, but don't make my mistakes."
"I don't think I could." Malcolm flicked his eyes to Trip and looked back to see Stuart smiling.
"Good. Fair seas, Malcolm."
"Strong winds, Father." No handshake, no hug, merely a new understanding. An exchanged nod, and Malcolm walked away, joining Trip farther up the corridor. The chronometer was ticking down, and the men could only give a last wave before rushing to their platform. They climbed into the shuttle and made their way down the aisle until they made it to their assigned seats. The bags went back into the overhead compartments, and Malcolm squeezed past Trip to take the window seat again.
Trip folded into his seat with a sigh. "Ya know, after these three weeks, I'm startin' to think it might be more relaxing working back on Enterprise."
Malcolm couldn't help but agree as he sat down. Rolling his head against the seat's headrest, he looked over at Trip. "So, was this shore leave worthwhile?" It felt good to tease Trip again, felt good to see the sharp disbelieving look dissolving into a smile.
Trip leaned forward in his seat and twisted back to look at Malcolm, an exaggerated look of deliberation on his face. "Hmm." He looked down to the ring on his own hand, then to Malcolm's matching one, then back up to his face. "Hell yes." They both laughed as Trip sat back.
"As for me, it was very educational. For example, I learned that no one can ever frighten me more than I love you. It's just not possible." Malcolm spoke with calm conviction as he glanced up through his eyelashes.
Trip grimaced. "I'm sorry, Mal, I shouldn't have said that. I...."
Malcolm cut him off with a firm shake of his head. "No, I needed to hear that. I needed to find something that was more important than my father's perception of me. And I finally realized that I already had it."
"And that is?"
"You, love. You and everything you are to me." Trip's eyes shone, and Malcolm felt caressed by the warm look in them. In his heart, he knew that as long as this man was at his side, he could withstand anything fate chose to deal to him.
The shuttle around them rumbled quietly, then slid out of its bay, skimming across the water as it pointed itself back towards the stars.
END